


The Sounds he Likes are Unnerving to Me

by IntraVee



Category: DBZ - Fandom, Dragonball Z
Genre: BulmaGokuPlatonic, Dark, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 17:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18348701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntraVee/pseuds/IntraVee
Summary: This is a VEGEBUL AU that is set in an  timeline where Planet Vegeta has become inhabitable and the small surviving Saiyan population is looking to take over Earth. Since the war, the planet is apocalyptic and a shell of it's former beauty and a greater threat is looming over the warring world. A lot of the technology has been lost in the war. The Saiyans are also more human-like than in the show; no flying or instant transmission. No giant power ups or magic-type attacks. Strictly just brute strength and physical limits. I just wanna write Bulma as a badass warrior babe. :)





	1. Words that Mobilize

**Author's Note:**

> Just setting the stage, friends. :) It's my first Vegebul fic, pls be gentle. I just want to write Bulma as the badass QUEEN she is Haaa <3

"Shut your low-class mouth, immediately." Vegeta looked down at the skinny man that shivered before him, lifting a judgmental eyebrow and resting his eyes in the distance. He lifted his chin arrogantly, taking in a deep breath before slowly exhaling. He didn't have time for this -- he didn't have time for anything. There was far too much to be done. They were so close to ending this war, and he could smell the delicious victory on the horizon. Finally, they were going to establish Earth as their new home.

"But sir, I --"

Vegeta grabbed the man by his throat and lifted him off his feet. He sucked at his teeth with another breath and laughed heartily as the man struggled to break free from his grasp. "I told you to be quiet." He tossed him to the ground with ease. "Now listen to me, or I will have you replaced."

"Y-yes Prince Vegeta." He coughed through his weakened words, frightened of the thick brows glaring down at him.

"Prepare the footmen. I want everyone ready for tonight. We cannot take any further loss; these humans are much stronger than we anticipated. But we will destroy every last one of them..." Vegeta turned his back to the soldier and began walking toward his quarters. He heard the footsteps of the man scurry off in the opposite direction. "Hmpf." He pulled back the curtain of his tent and sat down at the large round table in the middle of the room. There were figured pieces displayed on a large map scrolled across and markings of red paint splashed over it.

He took a moment to look them over, playing out scenarios in his mind. His dark eyes grew somber and his brows angry. He had lost several good men to the people of planet Earth, comrades at that. This planet was full of weak-minded individuals, but they had a knack for war as well. Vegeta felt his hands tighten into a fist before a shuffle from the opening of his quarters disturbed his thoughts. Vegeta glanced forward.

"My son." The large man pulled out a chair next to him, resting his broad lengthy stature on it's tall backside. He dusted the cape from his shoulders to reveal the royal Saiyan crest painted on his silver armor. "We may have another problem. There is a new threat we must deal with." Vegeta felt a confused wave of excitement as he sat up straight. Could it be another foe? It was a provoking thought.

"What is it?" He cleared his throat in preparation.

"Frieza."

Vegeta felt his heart sink and his mind pull several directions. _That bastard._

"I have had no other option, Vegeta. I have already sent a proposal to the people of Earth. We have made amends with the humans so we may live and coexist." The words were hard to speak, he could tell. The mighty king didn't want to admit that he conceded so easily. They were destroyers and mighty conquerors, a proud resounding warrior race! "His men are coming. Quickly." He swallowed difficulty, before proceeding. "We must brief everyone of the situation. If we do not protect this planet there will be nowhere else for us to thrive." The king sighed heavily. "We must work with these people for our own preservation. Or I fear the worst."

Vegeta shook his head. "How could you come to this decision? I don't think we have anything to ask of these humans. They are weak and foolish, and we are near victory." He snarled at his father. His pride spanned over his features as he clenched a fist. "We should destroy them tonight before Frieza and his men even get here."

"Individually, they may be weak. But they have weapons and numbers we do not." Vegeta bit his lower lip, visibly thinking with the movement of his eyes. "You and I both know that there isn't many of us left and the humans have proven to be quite difficult to eradicate. You will not question my authority."  
"Fine." He barked backwards, pushing back the tent opening. "YOU!" He called to the nearest Saiyan, motioning for him to come closer. "I said I wanted everyone gathered. Fucking move!"

\----

Bulma brushed her teal hair from her eyes, glancing at her father. "A truce!? With those.... THOSE ALIENS!?" She shook her head violently as she starred at him in disbelief. "How is that even possible? We were so close..." She grabbed her sword and slid to her knees in visible defeat. The back of her hand wiped away sweat and black grease from her cheeks. Her appearance was rough and torn. It was obvious the weight that she carried with her, for she was such a long shot from the bubbly and assertive young woman she once was.

"We have intercepted a radio signal and there is a larger threat coming, Bulma." Mr. Briefs wiggled his mustache, unsure how to reel his daughter back in. His sad eyes looked her over as she slumped in defeat. "I know we lost your mother to this war and it means a lot to you. It means a lot to me, too. You have fought so well." He could feel a lump forming in his throat, so he cleared it several times before placing a dirty hand on her shoulder and continuing. "But if these strong fighters fear whatever it is that is coming, then I must say that it's in our best interest. We may have been able to keep these Saiyans at bay, but I don't think we are prepared to fight the next threat alone."

Bulma lifted her sorrowful gaze; she knew he was right. Her father was a smart man who had only become sharp since the passing of his wife. She ran her fingers through her unwashed hair in acceptance, and drew a deep sigh.

"Here." He handed her a Saiyan uniform. "It's a bit too big for you, but it will do. Krillin says he stole it from someone during the battle of Central City."  


"What am I going to do with that!?" She protested.

"Wear it, of course. You don't think I'm going to let you fight with them looking as you do, do you?" His dark eyes looked into her blue ones. "You never know what those Saiyans are up to. I'd rather you fight in disguise as one of them. I can't lose you --"

"Dad..." She interrupted, hoping to derail him from the dark path he was headed. She took the armor from him and looked it over. It was obviously too big, and had seen better days. The gold trim and tiling had faded into a shaded copper and the white was dotted with stains. It was clear that her father had cleaned it up some, but there was remnants of dirt and dried blood in the cracks of the uniform. The musty smell of old sweat and iron filled her nose. Bulma slid the armor over her war torn clothing as Mr. Briefs looked her over, fingers scratching at his chin.

"I have a helmet for you, as well. Conceal your face and blend in and whatever you do, DON'T take it off." He brushed off the front of the forehead with the sleeve of his forearm, almost admiring his masterpiece before passing it along. It matched the Saiyan armor and was identical to the design he'd seen the enemy wear before. "Try to appear more uh -- masculine -- if you can. Round off those shoulders and stand tall." He cracked a small smile, knowing how difficult that was going to be for her to pull off. She was a tall girl with feminine curves and every bit as beautiful as her mother. "And the clothes, you don't wear those underneath. You'll have to wear them like a Saiyan as well." He told her, as if she hadn’t seen them before.

She sighed heavily. "Okay. Is anyone coming with me?"

"Yes of course. But you're the only one in disguise so please. Try not to be so... you." He smiled and softly caressed Bulma's cheek. "It is my greatest wish to see this planet thriving again so we may live in peace." He kissed her forehead. "Be careful. I love you, Bulma." Mr. Briefs closed the door behind him.

Bulma was left alone to staring into the helmet with subtle confusion and fear.

\---

There wasn’t much to the outfit, was there?

She eyed the Saiyan armor she had propped on a broken stool as her fingers glided along her bare skin with a dirty rag. Bulma rung it out into the open barrel she sat in, filled with lukewarm water and soap. It was such an ugly garment; those protruding pieces on the shoulders were particularly an eye sore and the overall shape just seemed unfit for doing nearly anything at all. It was cumbersome and unflattering, deformed and clearly worn for years before it became hers.

Hell, she HATED it.

She sat still for a few moments before looking at the pool of liquid, acknowledging the privilege she may not have for some time to come. A deep sigh fell from between her lips. “I may as well enjoy this.”

Bulma threw the moist rag at the armor, knocking it to the floor and smiled with small victory. She rest her head on the back of the barrel, looking at the cracks of sunlight letting in rays that lit the room enough for her to see. There wasn’t much to look at since the room had been such a far cry from what it once was. Some of the rafter boards had fallen and holes in the ceiling let in a view of the sky above. Thankfully it was a warm day, otherwise she may have not enjoyed the coolness of her bathwater. Birds chirped in the background; it was a miracle that there had been such beauty left.

Capsule Corp had been nearly destroyed, save for a few rooms that were only partly damaged. With a heavy heart, Bulma cupped some water with her hands and washed the dirt from her face in attempts to clean away some of the sadness; as if somehow she could wash away some of the sights and horrific things she’d seen. It was to no avail.

Some time had passed before Bulma stood from the bath and let the water fall from her curves. Her wet hair was matted against her skin and she attempted to move it from her face and breasts. She glanced into the large sliver of mirror that hung from the wall and looked at her shapely body, both in acknowledgement and disappointment. 

“I must try.”


	2. Fashionable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still doing a lot of set up. Let me know what you guys think! I'm definitely taking some weird liberties with this AU.

“This is bullshit!”  
“Yeah, why do we have to do this?!”  
“They killed so many of us!”  
“There is no way I am playing fucking fiddle with these humans!”  
“We can kill them!”  
“FUCK NO.”  
“Reconsider, King Vegeta!”

The angry pleas of the small Saiyan crowd overwhelmed the Prince’s ears. He could hear all of them biting back at the news like the waves of a tumultuous ocean, roaring loudly in disgust. None of them liked it one bit, and why should they? Hell, he didn’t like this plan, either. It wasn’t the Saiyan way – the proud warrior way. But unfortunately, his father was dumb with reason. They just didn’t have the manpower, anymore. Their hands were tied.

The sun was low on the horizon and the golden hour cast a luxurious hue on the men.

“SILENCE.” The King said simply, yelling over the crowd of anger. “We all know what Frieza is capable of.” The Saiyans slowly became quiet as they began to realize the bitter truth. “He is coming and we are left in a dwindled shell of our former glory – the lot of you are WORTHLESS.” Vegeta stood next to his father a few meters away and watched as the king began to lose his temper. He grinned devilishly. It was about time.

“All of you have disappointed me GREATLY and you don’t deserve to call yourself Saiyans. Look at you.” They began looking around amongst each other, some bowing their heads in shame thereafter. There was a heavy feeling in the air as the King continued. “Most of you haven’t even earned your title! Mere worker designations – none of you fit for WAR. This should have ended MONTHS ago. But now we are here, forced to cooperate with these indignant beings.” He huffed and turned around, arms folded and upset. Vegeta raised a brow as a bald man came forth from the sea of men, lowering himself down on one knee.

“My King.” Nappa said, his head parallel with the ground. The bulky man cleared his throat. “I have an idea...”

 

\------

 

Bulma peaked around a tent, listening to the discussions of the gathered Saiyan clan. She was far enough away as to not hear anyone clearly, but close enough to deliberate how far away she should be standing. “Goku…” She whispered, hoping he was at their rendezvous point. The two of them had been friends since he landed on earth as a child, and since he was Saiyan by birthright, the King seemed to trust him despite his silly kindness toward humankind. Putting trust in strength was such a silly concept to Bulma, except in this moment she began to understand.

“Oh, is that you Bulma?!” He said, perhaps a bit too loud. “You look different!” He laughed at her as he peered into the helmet slits that had the small openings for her eyes. 

“SHH!” She shooed his gaze away with a wave of her wrist. “We have to be careful.” Bulma cautiously watched the group of Saiyans, hoping not to disturb the last few that stood in the back. One shifted to tug softly at his backside, she suspected it was because of the discomfort of his undergarments, but thanfully none of them seemed to hear them.

“Eeesh, Sorry.” He said, scratching the back of his head. Goku starred at her for a moment. Her shoulders were broad and heavy from the armor plating that sat on top and her torso was malshaped like a box. The panels between her legs and her backside hid the curves of her thighs and ass. He wanted to laugh some more at the site, but hid the smirk behind a few fingers at his lips, literally trying to quell the humor that wanted to roar from his throat. “I forgot. You just look so --”

“Can we make this work?” She cut him off, her gaze could not be removed from the crowd.

“I don’t see why not. I’ve told Nappa the plan, and he is already discussing it with the King. But are you sure you want to travel with HIM?”

“If he is as strong as you say he is, yes.” She was a clever and witty woman. Bulma wanted to fight with someone who was capable and could hold his own in battle. Goku spoke highly of the prince on most days, despite having concerns about him here and there. Her goal was to stay silent and unseen, but be included in the safety of the strong. Her father needed her alive, they were all each other had left. This seemed like the best way to fight, and there was no reason to trust the Saiyans to fight kindly alongside the likes of her own race.

“Bulma, he cannot find out that you’re a human woman. He would kill you himself.” Goku’s voice became serious for one of the few times she’d seen in the entire time she knew him. Her eyes met his as he grabbed her hand. “He will KILL you himself.”

“I’ll be fine.” She smirked and pulled her hand away. 

 

\-----

 

“Nappa, that just might be the best damn thing I’ve heard.” The King commended him, setting his pint onto the war table.

Nappa smirked and took a glance over at the Prince who sat there silently, eyes closed and hands tucked beneath each armpit. His jaw was clenched so tight he was sure the smaller man was going to pop. Vegeta had his very own mug of rye that sat in front of him, unwanted and untouched. Nappa took a few long gulps of his ale and let out an exasperated pleased sigh. “Thank you, my King.”

“Vegeta, are you listening?”

“Hmpf.” He growled and nodded.

“You say you have a team together for this?” The King ignored his son.

“I do, sir. I believe that Frieza is planning to fight us over here.” He drew a circle with his fingertips along the horizon of the woods that were close by. “There is a human man that has intel that suggests he plans to land his ship right off the coast. His name is Mr. Briefs of Capsule Corp.”

The King stroked his beard in thought for a few moments, eyes glazed over partly from the sauce. He had no idea of who the man was that he spoke of, but the corporation wasn’t unfamiliar.

“I suggest we make this a small team for negotiations.” Nappa included.

“I doubt that they will be willing to listen to anything we have to say.” Vegeta snapped at Nappa, glaring deeply at the shine the fire emitted on his clean head. “He’s coming here for a reason, and it’s blood.”

“You’re right, which is why we will have a secondary plan.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Vegeta retorted, mockingly.

“We catch him by surprise while some of us distract him from his primary operative.”

“That’s not the Saiyan way.” The King said before drinking the last bit of his toxin. He was more vulnerable than usual, and the idea of being enslaved to Frieza and his force made him furrow his bushy brows. “But we aren’t left with much choice. We need to be smart.”

“I suggest we bring Kakarot. He may be useful.” Nappa included. “Along with one of his men that is apparently very good at negotiations.” The large man sat very still in his lie, trying to nonchalantly get the approval from his superior. Nappa didn’t even know who this mysterious person was. He only knew that Kakarot had insisted that this was the plan that was going to bring them to victory. In all the experience that Nappa had, Kakarot had never led him wrong and his strength was something to be admired. He was such a silly man, but he respected him despite his love for the people of earth.

“When do you leave?” Asked the King.

“As soon as Prince Vegeta finishes his ale so he may come along.” Nappa took a playful jab.

Vegeta looked shockingly at his subordinate. “I won’t help that common filth.” He referred to Kakarot.

“Get your shit together and go.” The King berated his son, taking Vegeta’s glass and dumping it into his own goblet. “You will do as I say. You want to lead someday, then fucking lead. Maybe you’ll learn something.” The king laughed at him, stood from his chair and left the room.

Vegeta looked displeased, glaring wildly at the table while Nappa let out a low and hearty laugh. He slapped the side of Vegeta’s arm in jest. “C’mon, guy. Don’t be so upset to work with me again. It’s been too long since we actually went on a mission together.”

“I’m leading this little excursion, Nappa. But I have the feeling like you have something up your sleeve.” He looked over at Nappa without turning his head. “What are you doing?”

“Drinking myself stupid, you idiot.” He laughed.

“No, I meant what the fuck are you up to and why is Kakarot coming with us? That fool should stay behind.”

“Well, this was actually his idea.”

Vegeta laughed. “Obviously. You’re smarter than this.” He crossed his arms again.

“Hey – I …” He lost his train of thought before scratching his head. “I dunno, I owe him a favor I guess.”

“Who cares. Pack your shit.”


	3. The shadow that waits on the wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should've just combined chapters 2 and 3, but. I didn't think I would have as much writing power in me today. :P The chapters are gonna be longer from here on out. I also probably won't be able to update for a few days, so. Thanks for reading! <3

“Are you coming, too?” She asked Goku.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Just in case something happens.” He smiled innocently. “But I cannot be sure I will be of much use. You see, I don’t think Vegeta likes me too much.”

“Why?”

“Well, I grew up here on earth. So to him, I'm not a true Saiyan. Also, while a lot of people worked hard to maintain our old planet, I was here. It’s why they came here, after all." Goku glanced at her. "But you already knew that. They simply ran out of resources.” 

She nodded.

He cleared his throat softly. “I can understand why he is so rough, seeing your own people parish by the thousand after fighting to save themselves.” He was somber again, much unlike his usual self. “Just imagine -- a young boy sent to a fruitful planet while his home world was crumbling and his people were starving. I don’t pretend to know that kind of pain, but I see it when I look at him.”

Bulma was silent for a moment. She almost felt bad for the prince.

_Almost._

She shut her eyes to regain her perspective. “Mom.”

“Hm?”

“Oh, nothing.” She waved him off as they continued to walk toward a large tent in the distance.

 

\-----

 

Nappa slung a large sack on the back of his horse, stumbling a bit from too much ale. He tripped, catching himself on the back of the horse stall and began to laugh at his own misfortune.

“I told you not to drink too much. You better not make me a fool.” He grunted in the direction of Nappa, looking at the poor struggling bastard before helping him clip his baggage onto the saddle. He pat the leather a few times before concentrating on situating his belongings to his own steed. The mare was black from head to toe, muscular and virtuous. Somehow, it was as if the horse was meant to be his.

“Prince Vegeta!” Goku called out, waving like child.

“Kakarot.”

_Stupid idiot._

Vegeta finished buckling the harness before turning to look at him. He looked as outlandish as ever. Even his clothing were a dead strike against his heritage. Kakarot had that supremely naïve smile that did little to calm his nerves and a voice that just annoyed him to the core. He wasn’t a proper Saiyan; he had come to this planet long before they even needed to, back when home was plentiful and beautiful. The poor fool’s father had an inkling that Frieza would destroy them all, and alas it did not come to happen. Instead, he only took the greatest warriors from their homes and watched the downfall of their society in silence. Bardock didn’t last long in society, anyhow. He was outcast along with his unfortunate wife and eldest son, Raditz. He took a moment to recall why his father had sent them away, but it didn’t matter. Vegeta was too focused on the weak power level that stood next to Kakarot.

“Is this our diplomat?” Vegeta scoffed and washed his eyes over the stranger, taking in how pathetic they looked. This man must’ve been some sort of field worker or scribe – he was downright puny. Thin legs and arms and wore a helmet that disclosed their face. This was the man that Goku suggested to bring along? He was more of an idiot now more than ever. The stranger looked a lot like the disruptive heathen he had thrown to the ground earlier in the evening, and he smiled at the possibility of it being the very same man. What a sad excuse for a Saiyan warrior. He might have fun on this excursion, fucking with the low-class man, after all.

“Haha, yeah! I guess we’re all working together now, huh?” Kakarot laughed it off while Vegeta seethed at his very voice.

Bulma couldn’t hear Goku’s laughter or Vegeta’s insulting tone. She could only feel blood rushing to her head, flushing her face with an intense heat that she could feel radiate back at her from within the helmet walls. The sound of her heightened blood pressure stung her ears and she swallowed difficultly. She didn’t know what to do in that very moment. She stood there quietly, fuming beneath the hidden exterior, doing her best not to quake with anger. This warrior race had slaughtered thousands of people, including her mother, and now she was face to face with one of the strongest; who undoubtedly was at fault for so many deaths. She began to open her mouth as if to say something, but quickly caught herself. It wasn’t the time to blow her cover. Not now. Not before she got a chance.

“Where’s the other... moving ...things?” Nappa chimed in, running a hand across his bald head in attempts to sober up and collect his words.

Vegeta looked at him plainly before he recognized what he meant. “There are two other horses over there for you. Make use of them.” He made a gesture at the pair and turned back to packing himself, disinterested in conversing anymore with Kakarot and the stranger.

Goku looked at Bulma. “Well I guess we better get our stuff together before the sun goes completely down.” All she could do was nod. 

She looked at her horse. It looked healthy, but she felt saddened. This was a far cry from the motorcycle she once rode. Those used to be better days, full of light and carefree moments. The image of her mother once again popped into her head and she shook it as quickly as it came. They had brought ruin earth had never dreamed of and was ravaged of most of their scientific discoveries. Who knew that this race was going to bring such horrible and definitive destruction? Even Capsule Corp was just a shadow of its former self. She was fortunate to have come from wealth, but money had no meaning in a world where currency couldn’t get you what you needed. It had come down to survival of the fittest (or smartest, in her case) and fortunately enough for her, she had saved herself a few capsules from before the war. Whatever was left that the Saiyans hadn’t destroyed the humans managed to do themselves with manmade weaponry; nuclear bombs had been the ugliest of them all. The world was permanently living in a shade of grey fog. 

Lost in thought, she watched as Vegeta and Nappa were continuing on with their horses while pretending to do something with her own. There wasn’t much for her to pack other than her sword, gun and canned food she brought along.

Admittedly, at first, Bulma thought the larger man was the Saiyan prince. He had such a dominating stature, large and muscular and surely his strength meant he was someone important. He could easily crush her just by glancing at the strength of his hands. He had to be several times her size, and immediately she wondered what she had gotten herself into. She had infiltrated the scene, and here she was, second guessing her plan. There was no turning back now.

But Goku had called _him_ prince.

Bulma felt her eyes shift, slowly running along Vegetas backside. She hated this man and all he stood for; he was royalty to murderers. She clenched her teeth as she continued watching him. His muscles were sharp and thick, though much smaller than his friendly drunken partner. The small of his back was tight, curving nicely and his ass -- 

“What are you gawking at?” Vegeta snapped at the stranger as he turned around.

“OH I UH –“ She cleared her throat hoarsely and tried to speak as deeply as she could. It was a poor attempt, but it seemed like the Saiyan bought it. “Packing.” Her face swelled red.

Goku immediately jumped in to draw attention. “When do we leave?”

“Now.” He hopped up on his horse and shield his eyes with a large gloved hand. The sun was bright and fading along the horizon.

“We need to get there before they do.” Nappa included, struggling to sit up straight on his steed. “Otherwise, this plan is kinda stupid. I mean, what the hell are we supposed to say? NO PLEASE DON’T KILL US MR SPACE LIZARD.” Nappa laughed hard at his own joke while the other three looked at him with no response.

Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shut the fuck up, Nappa.”

The four of them began riding off the Saiyan campsite and into the dense darkening forest. 

 

\-----

They only got so far into the forest before Nappa fell from his horse.

“Nappa!” Goku was honestly shocked.

“Nappa, what the fuck are you –“ Nappa rolled over and began laughing hysterically.

“I think he’s drunk,” 

“Yeah, no fucking shit.” Vegeta dismounted his horse and kicked Nappa in the side. “Let’s make camp since this bald asshole can’t seem to sit up straight.”

“Right, uh, Camp.” Goku looked around in the dark. The sun had finally set and the only light they could see what the soft dark blue hue of the sky above. “We also need a fire or something.”

Bulma nodded while looking down at the laughing Saiyan.

“You!” Vegeta pointed at her. She sat up straight as a pin.

“Fire.”

She nodded vigorously and hopped down until her feet met the ground.

_‘What a prick.’_


	4. Here it Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am probably trying to gross people out at this point.  
> Be warned if you're squeamish with bathroom content. :P

The fire crackled devilishly, flickering hues of orange and gold on their faces. The trees around them were lit with the beauty of heat as well. It may have been a sight to see, though her peripherals were disrupted by the vision field of her mask.

Bulma watched as the Saiyans were digging deep into their food, eating like savages and making the most unappealing smacking noises. She shriveled her nose in disgust underneath her helm, gulping deeply as if to keep the nausea at bay. Even Goku was eating like he had never learned the customs or manners of earth. It was disgusting. She reached out to the fire to pick off a piece of meat from the bone and struggled with the opening of the faceplate. Finally she was able to grab the scrap with her teeth through the slit. 

“Why are you still wearing that thing?” Vegeta grumbled uninterestedly, barely looking up from his meal. 

Bulma felt the color drain from her face. What was she supposed to say? Surely he was right, there was no reason for her to be wearing it around a campfire during dinner. Hell, there was no reason for her to really be wearing it at all; they weren’t in battle. It was only for disguise, and the obviousness of her secret seemed laid upon the table for them all to see. How could she be so stupid? Suddenly, the ping of being caught and exposed caused her stomach to twist into a knot, and the stress shifted her insides awkwardly with a growl. Her eyes darted quickly to Goku, who seemed to be just as at loss for words.

“I need to use the bathroom.” She grunted, quickly got to her feet and ran away, holding the lower part of her stomach.

Vegeta watched as the stranger ran outside earshot while chewing a hunk of deer flesh. “Kakarot…”

Goku perked up, a piece of meat hanging outside his lip comically. 

“Who is that man? He sounds sick.” 

“Oh, that’s –“ He quickly made up a traditional Saiyan name. “Lettsu. He’s a pretty good guy. Nappa and him go way back.” Goku lied convincingly. Nappa laid flat on his back, lost in drunken sleep. He snored almost as loudly as they spoke, unable to retort the lie. The poor drunk had been asleep far before dinner was ready.

“How have I never met him before?” He asked, almost to himself, shifting his gaze away from the lug of a man that was sprawled across the ground ungracefully.

“Well, he’s not exactly a warrior.” Goku laughed, trying to convince the prince. “But you’ve probably seen him in passing. He’s an ugly man, you see.” He giggled almost, trying not to fumble up on his storytelling. Bulma would surely punch him in the shoulder or yell at him for calling her unattractive. “He wears a helmet because of how hideous his face. I heard it was melted off by a human at the battle of Central City, caught in the radiation. Who knows if he even has a nose left.” Goku wanted to roar with laughter, picturing Bulma with a bright red clown nose in place of where one should be instead of her missing one. Instead, he continued. “Lettsu wasn’t even there to fight, he was there to record the war for Saiyan history books.”

Another lie.

Vegeta seemed uninterested. “A true Saiyan doesn’t hide his scars. How pathetic.”

“Not all of us wear our battles with pride. How else is he supposed to get a woman?” Goku lifted a brow at Vegeta suggestively.

“You’re naïve, Kakarot.” Saiyan women loved scars, it was a sign of strength and protection. “You’ve been around earth women for too long.” 

“Yeah.” He thought of Chi-chi. “They’re beautiful though.” He smiled, thinking of his wife.

“Not to me.” Vegeta growled, throwing a bone into the fire and taking a drink of ale.

\--

Bulma had scurried off into the darkness of the woods. She rested her forearm onto a tree and bent over, her chest heaving in attempts to catch her own breath. Her eyes could see the glow of the fire in the distance, but it was barely visible through all the vegetation. Immediately she reached for her helmet and threw it to the ground. The soft coolness of the night air on her face was such a welcome serenity she didn’t know she longed for. Her long teal hair was matted to across her forehead and pulled back into a messy ponytail. The sweat on her face was quickly wiped away with a free hand before calmly sliding her backside along the tree until she was sitting.

That was so close.

The cramps in her stomach were painful and she quickly shimmied her undergarment down to her ankles and winced her eyes. A grunt left her lips followed by the sound of patters on the forest floor. Liquid.

After a brief moment of relief that washed over her, Bulma realized she had nothing to clean herself. What was that feeling on her leg? The darkness allowed her mind to run free and she jumped at the idea of bugs crawling across the softness of her skin. The palm of her hand met her calf with a smack and was hit with a sudden realization. It wasn’t a bug.

She brought her hand close enough for the light of the moon to give her vision, and the smell helped her realize what it was before her sight could confirm. She screamed internally at herself. There was _SHIT_ all over her leg.

Bulma panicked and grabbed her underwear, wiping up her legs and ass until she felt clean. She vigorously tossed the used panties into the thickness of the darkness and began to head back. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears as she situated the helmet back on top her pretty teal locks.

\--- 

“Welcome back, Lettsu.” Goku said with a jolly pep. It was far too happy, for it caught Bulma completely off guard. Her mind was clouded by the guilt of her forest endeavor and barely catching the emphasized name he called her. She pulled down the bottom structures of her armor to hide her bare ass and the embarrassment that secretly flushed her face. “You were gone awhile.”

Bulma nodded and walked into the makeshift tent her and Goku would share without another word.

“Charming.” Vegeta said sarcastically. “He’s bound to have several mates.”

\--

A stiff hand worked his way along her leg, grabbing her and tying her down with an invisible force. She felt an electric feeling in the base of her being and yet she quaked with fear in her core. Heavy fingertips ran along the curve of her waist until it reached her breasts, pushing back the fabric of her nightgown to expose her. The coldness of the night air matched the aura of the room, and yet she continued to strenuously keep her eyes closed. The strong hand cupped her breast with strength that awoke a ferocity within her and she gasped at the pleasure it brought her. There was an unexplainable yet alluring fear that washed over her and told her to never open her eyes, and yet she played with the idea anyways.

Still, softly the gracious hands made way to her neck and caressed her cheek. “Open your eyes.” 

She opened them abruptly and they grew wide with panic.

A man with black Saiyan hair and strong back stood in front of her bed, unmoving. He wore no shirt and the forms of his muscles were radiating against the soft light of the moon. Wait --

_Her bed._

She glanced around the room, instantly recognizing its fixtures and décor. Pink curtains bellowed in the breeze that rolled through her open window and a small vanity mirror watched as she starred back at herself into it. It was her old bedroom from before the war. The peaceful alarm was mesmerizing and she longed to say there for as long as she could. She drew one peaceful deep breath and caught scent of the familiarity that put her pounding heart at ease.

This was the calm pleasure she had been aching for.

Bulma sat up, careful not to disturb the welcomed embrace of her memories, soaking in the past beauty like a sponge. If only she could stay here, but this must be a --

The stranger in front of her turned around slowly, his face obstructed but somehow menacing. He was laughing with a guttural growl she had never heard from any human, and in his hands held a tuft of hair she quickly recognized. As he continued to turn, Bulma could make out the form of the object that dangled from his paws. The prolific face burned an image into her brain and hot liquid fell from her eyes.

“Mom.” The word barely escaped her quivering lips.

The man held up the disembodied head of her mother above his own, allowing the blood from her neck to shower down on him like a traumatic summer rain. The maroon liquid coated his body until he abruptly tossed the head into her lap. The screams she thought she could hear never left her lips.

Bulma jumped awake, grabbing at the strong outreached wrist of someone who was knelt before her. He was inspecting her closely, and her other hand met the coldness of the metal that shielded her from onlookers. The helmet still kept her identity. Her eyes took a moment to focus onto who it was that watched her in her sleep.

“Vegeta?” She whispered.

\--

He had laid awake for a good portion of the night. The loud snoring of his old friend had kept him from getting any ounce of rest. Vegeta wanted to go over and kick him again for being both such a damned idiot and for being obnoxious even when he slept. He sat up and glared at Nappa for a few minutes, contemplating if he should bother to shake him awake.

He decided not to. Instead, he slid his covers off and walked out into the night air. It was still and silent where he stood. The cascading sounds of the insects and the soft breeze that rustled the leaves of the trees were all he could hear. He could remember the trees from his home planet, and they sounded nothing like the softness he heard here. It was almost unnerving how quiet it was, and he was left to resolve the complexities of his thoughts. The burnt embers of the fire were still red with a soft heat, but the fire was no more. He crouched and placed his bare hands over them, just to feel the relaxation of its warmth. The momentary joy he thought it would bring failed, and he stood, looking toward Kakarot’s tent.

Something was bothering him; the uncertainty and the reliability he could not place in the stranger gave him deep concern, for he could not bring himself to trust him. If he was going to share the glory of their salvation, he needed to find out who this person was and what he looked like. A melted face was surely something to behold.

There was no hesitation, not even a second thought. Who was this man to hide from him? He was the prince of all Saiyans, and no one should hide their face from him! Vegeta entered the second tent and looked at the two men sleeping flush on the ground, a soft symphony of inhalation entered his ears. He quickly recognized the size difference between the two and knelt down to the smaller body. He reached his arms toward the helmet, his curiosity itching to reveal what laid beneath. His thumbs touched on the front of the helmet, carefully trying to lift it from the sleeping stranger.

To his alarm, a hand swiftly grabbed his wrist and he was recognized.

The Prince sat there dumbfounded with his jaw unhinged.


End file.
